


following my hands

by dustywings



Series: Aegis [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustywings/pseuds/dustywings
Summary: Finally, one of them wins the brawl. And it's no victory.  [Mikasa/Annie]





	following my hands

After their first brawl, which had ended in a bloody draw, it sort of became routine. Both would deny they shared any ounce of respect for one another. Then again, they would also deny they genuinely felt _hatred_. The fact is that neither can outmatch the other and it’s incredibly frustrating. 

It becomes routine – choosing each other as their sparring partner. 

To be honest, they prefer the challenge.

Annie is precise. When she attacks, it is _definite_. She considers her options. Where to hit. Where to kick. Where her enemy is most vulnerable. And her stance is steady – clearly a posture she has been taught to carry.

Mikasa is _everywhere_. When she attacks, it is _angry_. She’s quick. Or, more accurately, she’s impatient with herself. She’s not very good at defence, but blocking attacks isn’t entirely necessary when she is the one throwing most of the punches. Her attacks are brutal. They’re heavy, and frantic.

They fight, desperate for the other to break.

Always it ends in a draw. Always. Which only makes their fights all the more addictive. They try to convince themselves they’re only training, only practicing for when it matters. But, really, they’re just trying to kid each other. Mikasa enjoys sparring with Annie; she’s equal to her in skill. Annie enjoys sparring Mikasa; she doesn’t feel guilty when she causes her to bleed. They fight and it’s dirty.

Routine. Until, they’re sore and aching to the bone. 

**.**

**.**

**.**

Midnight, past curfew. Mikasa can’t sleep. Sasha is snoring. Usually, she’s able to ignore the racket, but this time round proves tricky. She tosses and turns. Really, Mikasa doesn’t have the heart to tell Sasha to roll onto her side. The poor girl has had another severe disciplining from the sergeant, after all. 

It needn’t matter, anyway.

Someone nudges her. Mikasa jumps, facing her intruder with sharp eyes. 

But it’s only Annie.

‘You awake?’

Mikasa swallows, a funny feeling settling in her stomach. ‘Obviously not.’

‘Come outside.’

Annie doesn’t wait. She walks out of the barracks. Mikasa follows, and, for some reason, she’s on edge. 

Of course she can take her in a fight. They have multiple times. 

But there’s something different. Something she can’t pinpoint, and dreads to discover.

Outside is dark and cold, but the moon is fierce, casting light across the grounds. Mikasa shoves her hands into her pockets, burying her chin into her scarf. She can feel the chill. It surrounds her like toxic, a venomous embrace which she’s eager to shake off. Annie doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t slow down for her, but Mikasa knows where they’re going.

The training field is surprisingly bright during this late hour. 

‘What is it?’ Mikasa’s voice is steady; hard. Like rock.

‘Can’t sleep,’ Annie replies, eyes tired and bored. ‘Thought we should finish what we started.’

But they _never_ finish. They always agree to a draw. Because they’re fighting for hours and hours, and it’s the only logical solution.

Mikasa blinks. 

_That_ is what makes her nervous. Annie wants to _finish_ the fight.

And she has a horrible, ugly thought that one of them _will_.

To begin, it’s smooth. Their aims are precise. Kicks are clean, and punches exact. 

Until Annie’s fist _whacks_ into Mikasa’s jaw.

She accidentally bites down on her tongue. Blood pours into her mouth, and she spits it out, growling in frustration. How could she let her guard down? Mikasa inhales, focussing on Annie again who has returned to her typical posture. _Something is off_. Mikasa isn’t sure what, but something is definitely off.

When they start again, Mikasa makes the effort to block Annie’s attacks. And, for the most part, that’s what she does. She defends. She avoids. This evening, Annie is shockingly predictable, and her face–

– _is so_ ** _expressive_**.

What Mikasa sees isn’t anger, or loathing, or frustration. 

It’s an emotion much deeper than that. Far more complex. Annie is falling apart at the seams, and the more she tries to hurt Mikasa, the more she seems to crumble.

Mikasa is _shook_. She won’t _dare_ hurt Annie; terrified she might actually _win_.

And God forbid she _ever_ outmatch her.

Mikasa _loves_ victory. Victory is her drive, the only reason she’s out here, right now, fighting this girl.

Except, _right now_ , she doesn’t want it.

Because this victory would be easy. Too easy. _Humiliatingly easy_.

Mikasa swerves out of the way when Annie tries again. If Annie’s kick had hit Mikasa, then she would have broken bone.

‘Do something.’

Annie’s voice is shaking.

Mikasa doesn’t have to.

She wins without doing anything at all.

‘ _Do something_.’

Then her kicks, her punches, every time she aims for Mikasa – it’s _clumsy_. All of the harsh training Annie has been forced through has gone, and instead Mikasa sees somebody small, and young, and traumatised from a life she has no wish to partake in. Whatever secrets Annie has hid from everybody, they must have been _horrifying_. 

Mikasa catches her wrist. 

‘ _Hurt me_.’

‘No,’ Mikasa winces when Annie twists her arm backwards. She manages to yank out of Annie’s grip. 

‘Fucking _hurt_ me, Ackerman.’

‘I don’t want to.’

This is the trigger. Mikasa might as well have cut a blade across Annie’s chest.

Annie’s eyes are so bright, Mikasa is stunned into place. They widen, furious, confused, completely vulnerable, and she locks her jaw, glaring at her. 

When she throws her next round of punches, she yells out; the sort of noise only a desperate child might make. The sort of noise a girl might make, desperate to be free.

Annie hits her, several times, and her punches are hot and violent – they’re _weak_. The sort of punches which would knock anybody else down, except Mikasa. The sort of punches Annie Leonhardt has exceeded.

‘Do _something_.’

Mikasa slaps her.

Annie feels the impact more than the sting. Her cheek burns a dark shade of red, and she needs a moment to find her balance, catch her breath. She blinks. It’s been a _long_ time since somebody _slapped_ her. Since–

Like a fool, she turns to fight back, and Mikasa’s palm hits the other cheek.

(He used to hit her just the same way. Grabbing her before she could run away, slamming her back into the wall, and _slapping_ her until she was bruising.

And his face always _terrified_ her.)

Annie stares at her, daring her to slap her again. She _wants_ her to _fight_. But Mikasa stubbornly refuses. Mikasa stands, perfection before her, and Annie has never felt so worthless in her life. 

Annie’s lip is bleeding. She roughly wipes her hand over her mouth, smudging the blood.

Then she reaches for Mikasa’s throat, because what other choice does she have? She’s lost. Annie has lost, and they both know it–

Mikasa grabs her hands, knees her in the stomach, winding her, and knocks Annie to the ground.

Annie coughs, splutters, raggedly breathing in air. Before she can find her feet, before she can be an _idiot_ and continue the fight, Mikasa straddles her hips, pinning her down. Annie struggles, trying to push her off, and her hands are all over the place. There’s no more precision left. Mikasa squeezes her hands, slamming them down.

Why does it scare her, witnessing Annie this way?

She places most of her weight on Annie, refusing her an escape.

‘You’re losing it, Leonhardt,’ she growls.

‘Let me _go_.’

‘Make me. Go on. Try.’

Annie doesn’t.

Suddenly, it’s over.

What Mikasa witnesses next nearly reduces her to tears.

Annie looks away, and the amount of _shame_ riddled across her lovely face–

She’s ashamed. She’s guilty. She’s breaking apart, and somebody, _somebody_ , has made her feel this way. Mikasa furrows her brows, studying her, and every bitter thing she once felt for this girl manifests into something else entirely.

Immediately, Mikasa moves off of her. Annie sits upright, hand over her face, and Mikasa sits beside her, staring, waiting, hoping this can’t possibly be it. She _wants_ Annie to stand again, to be normal again, to fight her and _just_ fight her, but–

‘You should get away from me.’

It’s not a threat.

It’s a _warning_.

‘What?’

Annie sighs, lowering her hand. For the first time, she doesn’t look bored, or cold, or whatever else Mikasa has always seen her as. Her hair has fallen around her face, her cheek throbbing from Mikasa’s slaps, and her eyes – _shit_ , those eyes. They’re too easy to read. If Mikasa studied them long enough, she would effortlessly learn everything there is to know about this girl.

There’s a mess of amusement and fear playing Annie’s expression.

Mikasa won’t dare to imagine what she, herself, looks like.

‘You _should_.’

‘… I don’t want to.’

Annie frowns at that. For a split second, she frowns. ‘Why not?’

Mikasa doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know. 

She _does_ know. She just doesn’t want Annie to know.

‘I don’t–’ Annie exhales, ‘–I don’t want you to either.’

Mikasa’s breath catches. She feels invaded upon. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Annie meets her eyes, and it’s clear what Mikasa is really asking: _who did this to you? Who are you_ ** _really_** _angry at? Who_ ** _are_** _you? What’s going on?_

_Help me, so I can help you_.

‘I don’t want to talk.’

Annie wipes her eyes before Mikasa can see the tears.

But, she’s too slow. Mikasa sees.

A boy once taught Mikasa how to handle situations like these. She doesn’t know why she is trying, why she cares, but she doesn’t have much of an option. Mikasa shuffles closer towards her rival, and reaches out to touch her. Annie tenses entirely, Mikasa’s fingertips fluttering across her wounded cheek.

Then she crosses the barrier, and brings an arm around her middle. Annie is like a statue, but she doesn’t push Mikasa away either – she doesn’t _reject_ her. And Mikasa’s embrace is so _soft_ and _wonderful_ , like the embrace of a friend, or something else, something Annie is unfamiliar with, makes her panic–

She reacts. Tightly grasps at Mikasa’s scarf, and pushes her. She looks at her, as if to scream _how_ ** _dare_** _you?_ Both of them are ready to fight again. And _really_ fight. Fight until their knuckles are swollen and bloody, and they return to the barracks with torn skin, and battered skulls. It’s what she wants, what _they_ want.

But–

Mikasa kisses her. Once. Just once. 

They inhale sharply. Nervous. Uncertain. Perhaps trying to decipher what exactly they’re doing. Annie’s breath is hot against her lips, and she still pulls at her scarf, ready for Mikasa to throw the next punch. 

Annie kisses her next. One of them gasps. 

The next kiss, they meet each other halfway. And this kiss is rough, hard and _angry_. Their kiss is clumsy, a mess, and neither know what to do with themselves. Where to put their hands. How to breathe. Mikasa nips her lower lip, and Annie can taste blood and something sweet. She pushes herself into her, _onto_ her, a cold rush enveloping her whole when Mikasa’s fingers rake through her hair.

Mikasa is on her back. She yanks up Annie’s hoody, feeling her bare skin beneath. She digs her nails in, gliding them up her spine. Annie breaks apart, groaning, rocking into her hips. They meet in open-mouthed kisses, Annie’s hands pressed to Mikasa’s breasts, feeling them beneath her shirt. 

Suddenly Annie pulls back. She moves across her, grabbing at Mikasa’s scarf, and proceeding to do something unforgivable. Mikasa can _feel_ her own vulnerability fall into Annie’s hands when she removes Eren’s scarf.

Mikasa reacts. She reaches for it, panic and fury burning in her eyes, but Annie hasn’t lost her fight entirely. She blocks Mikasa’s attack by kissing her, before travelling kisses from her jawline, down her neck, where the scarf once covered. Annie yanks at Mikasa’s hair, forcing her head back, allowing her more room to kiss.

And Annie is _scorching_. Her body, her lips, her kisses, everything about her is _burning_. 

It’s impossible to not give in. Mikasa exhales shakily, closing her eyes, the sensation of Annie’s mouth on her body driving her insane. 

Then they pause. Briefly. Mikasa looks at her. And it’s all there for her to see. If she _wanted_ to see. If she dared herself to know. But, she doesn’t. A part of her can’t ask, can’t wonder why Annie is the way she is, because she can’t help think they might just be too similar. That their pasts, their childhood, are mere reflections of the other.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Annie whispers, and she says it almost like an apology.

Mikasa runs a hand across her cheek when they kiss again – and it’s soft, tender, almost a _caress_. 

Like a farewell, nearly.

_Like falling_.

Then, without a word, Annie stands, pulling down the hem of her hoody. Mikasa is just as quiet, finding her feet. She watches Annie pick up the red scarf from the floor, and pass it back to her. Mikasa doesn’t hesitate. She feels terribly open, feels as if Annie knows her better than anybody ever would.

While she wraps the scarf around her neck, Annie walks back to the barracks – alone. 

Mikasa doesn’t return to the barracks immediately. She buries her nose into her scarf, and fights the urge to call out her name. 

Tomorrow morning, the other scouts will wonder where Annie received her bruises from. They won’t ask, but they’ll wonder. 

When Mikasa collapses into bed, she still can’t sleep, and has a sinking feeling that Annie isn’t any different.


End file.
